


She Was Not Born To Drown

by Eletoile



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eletoile/pseuds/Eletoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/U set in the mid-1800s.</p><p>Nicole escapes a gentry life and a Confederate family to travel the country putting distance between her  an unwanted marriage. She meets a beautiful and smart girl in Purgatory. Will she be enough to end Nicole's travels?</p><p> </p><p>(I am terrible at summaries.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Going to try something really new here so please let me know what you think. If people don't like it then I can scrap this piece and it's long (for me) chapters.
> 
> Let me know what you think here or on Tumblr: elletoile.
> 
> I own nothing except the mistakes, which I profusely apologize for.

Nicole disembarked the train and looked across the sprawling plains and mountains of the area that would soon be the next stop on a very long journey. The landscape seemed dusty and barren compared to the vast tracts of manicured fields she’d grown up on. Her family owned an incredibly profitable tobacco plantation near Charleston, South Carolina. She was born in 1854, seven years before the outbreak of the Civil War. When Fort Sumter was bombarded and surrendered in April of 1861 her daddy left instantly becoming a high-ranking officer the Hampton’s Legion of the Confederate Army due to his education and gentry status. She was nine years old when her father died in the War. He died at Gettysburg along with nearly 50,000 other men, becoming one of 620,000 souls that died in that God forsaken war. Nicole didn’t understand why her father had to leave in the first place, much less why he was never coming home again. Sometimes she’d sneak into his study and put on his clothes, surprised that they still smelled of him. 

Her mother hung the flag high the day she got the news. Nicole thought the red was too bright and the design was tacky. She missed the stars and stripes they had up before the War. She learned to count by picking out the lines on the flag and the stars in the corner. When she told her mother she missed the old flag, she was struck across the face and told her father died for the flag that was currently flying and her brother was still fighting to preserve it. Nicole didn’t bring up the flag ever again, but she couldn’t comprehend why her father had to die for such an ugly flag. The years pressed on and Nicole kept hearing information that the South was “losing the War”. She asked her mother what that meant for them and she simply responded “Nothin’ good.”

In the spring when she was 12 she heard the names of all the famous generals and word that they were “surrendering”. She didn’t know what they were surrendering or why. She couldn’t fathom what could be so important that men like her father had to die for it. In April her mother told her the war would end soon, they had lost, she was sure. General Robert E. Lee had surrendered to the Union. Nicole always thought the word “Union” sounded so much more hopeful than “Confederate”. She didn’t say so. 

A month later the war ended. Two months later her only brother returned. She remembered a carefree youth. He came back completely different. “War changes people, Nicole.”

Her mother and her brother argued nonstop. She didn’t understand why the plantation was in trouble. She didn’t understand why the kids she played with were leaving with their families. Her brother told her it was because they lost the war. She wished, without knowing what it meant, that they hadn’t so her friends wouldn’t leave.

When she thinks back on that thought now, she kicks herself for how naïve she was.

Her mother caught her one day in her father’s study in his clothes, reading his books. She struck her again and told her that isn’t the way a young lady should dress or behave. She told Nicole she wasn’t being “proper”. Nicole didn’t know what “proper” was but she decided she certainly didn’t want to be that—it didn’t sound like a lick of fun. 

When Nicole was fifteen her life drastically changed.

She was outside the drawing room when she heard a heated argument between her mother and brother.

“We need to introduce her to Charleston society. We need to find a suitable match for her. Our finances are dwindling and we need to now hire plantation hands!”

“She’s not ready, Edward!” 

Her mother’s voice was shrill. 

“Then you’ll need to make her ready, mother! Increase her studies; I want every hour of her day planned with tutors. She only spends four hours with them now. Increase it exponentially. Get the seamstress here; she will be ready to be announced at the start of the next spring season. The first Debutante Ball is in April. Am I understood?”

Nicole found she didn’t like her brother anymore, the man he was in no way resembled the boy she used to know. Her lessons increased the following day and she chafed at the lack of her freedom. She learned to sing, play piano, do needlepoint, she had several language tutors and a tutor that taught her to paint using water colours and oil paints. She didn’t understand why or when she would ever need these skills. 

The seamstress came that March and gathered all her measurements. She told her mother Nicole was “too tall” and her hair was “too red”. But she would make her a gorgeous gown, nonetheless; hopefully one that would distract from “her inadequacies”. Nicole’s shoulders slumped and she cursed her hair colour. 

Nicole made the mistake of asking her mother why she had to go through all this training. Her mother usually kept her answer to a simple “to find you a suitable match.” “Why, so that I may start a brilliant fire?” Her mother responded that she didn’t know what they were paying the tutors for if they hadn’t managed to break Nicole of her smart mouth. On this particular day, however, she said that the purpose was to find Nicole a suitable husband from a well-to-do family that would bolster her family’s finances and status within the community. She informed her that times were tough in the aftermath of the war and this match could either insure the prosperity of her family, or it’s ultimate demise. Nicole couldn’t imagine spending her life with some man, kowtowing to his whim. She bit her bottom lip to keep herself from blurting this to her mother. Her mother swatted her, telling her it wasn’t proper of a lady to chew on her lip like that.

Nicole didn’t think she had any interest in being a “lady”. Her mother dismissed her and she ran out the front door and to the stables. She had to get away. She’d always been an excellent rider. She saddled her horse Prince quickly and galloped through the open gates of the plantation. The chilly wind billowed her cloak and reddened her face. It exhilarated her. She rode the hour it took to get to Anna’s family’s plantation. Anna had been her closest friend since she was small. Her family owned a cotton plantation, and their families had always been close. She dropped her horse off at the stable, smoothing her riding dress, and knocked on the door.

“Why, come in Miss Haught. What brings you here this afternoon.”

“I’d like to see Anna, please.”

“It is customary to make an appointment for such things.”

The butler admonished her, but there was a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth and she beamed at him. 

Anna came down the stairs, slowly, elegantly. Just the way Nicole’s mother wished she could come down the stairs; until she reached the bottom two steps, which she skipped down in her eagerness to get to Nicole. Nicole bowed low in greeting, causing Anna to laugh at her silliness. Anna grabbed her hand, taking her in for tea. 

“I am to come out this April,” she said sadly. “My brother insists it’s the correct time for our family. My mother maintains that I am not yet ready.”

“Are you?”

She catches Anna’s gaze and the weight of it forces her to look down.

“I wish I was more like you. You fit in so well. You do exactly as you’re supposed to, you’re great at all the things our tutors insist we must be fluent in. You seem to enjoy these things. Do you enjoy these things?”

“Of course I do. We must do what is expected of us Nicole. These times are hard.”

“I know that, Anna. Believe me I know what’s expected of me. I just don’t…I don’t fit in here. I don’t fit into this box they’re trying to shove me into. I don’t care to find a ‘suitable match’. I don’t want a husband. I want to ride my horse freely and shoot at things.”

She makes finger guns and pew pew noises at Anna, which causes her to burst into an unladylike fit of laughter.

“You’d make an excellent cowboy, like in all the stories,” Anna concedes.

“Well, I suppose I would be a cowgirl.” Nicole winks at her.

The smile drops from her face and washes from her eyes.

“I don’t belong here, Anna. I don’t think I can be the person they want me to be and live with myself.”

“Who do you want to be?”

Nicole was quiet, contemplating her friend’s question. Who did she want to be? She wanted to be independent, to be sure. Independent and far away from the life and expectations thrust upon her here. She’d heard there were mountains in the west. She desperately wanted to see them. She just wanted to be…free. She wanted to see more than the confines of her family’s plantation, or some man’s plantation, or the city of Charleston. She wanted to see everything. When she looked up from her contemplation, Anna was staring at her lips and patiently awaiting a reply. The way Anna was gawking at her stirred something dormant in Nicole. She could think of nothing else except kissing those lips. She leaned over on the couch and did just that, threading her hand behind Anna’s neck and into her beautiful blonde tresses. To her surprise, Anna kissed her back. When she finally pulled back her eyes were wild.

“Nicole, we shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t have….”

But her eyes went back to Nicole’s lips and they continued where they left off only breaking the kiss again because they heard footfalls down the corridor. 

They continued this affair well after the Nicole’s coming out. The first time Nicole was up Anna’s skirts she saw stars. She didn’t think anything in the world could feel better than being inside of her. Their hidden tryst was the best part of Nicole’s dull life. Nicole had successfully managed, thus far, to quietly but surely thwart away the advances of any “suitable matches” in her time on the society scene. Her mother was concerned and her brother furious. Her studies were increased. Her sixteenth birthday passes unnoticed in her house. She receives a letter from Anna. Anna is to be wed after the customary six month courting period to the eldest son of a prominent tobacco plantation owner. Nicole crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire. She rushed out of her house, but this time the wind on her face didn’t feel freeing. She felt imprisoned. She didn’t return the butler’s smile when he opened the door. She didn’t partake in their usual banter regarding her lack of an appointment. He sends her up to Anna’s quarters, as Anna had evidently requested. She opens the door loudly and completely lacking any grace. Anna is sitting on her bed, head hung low. Nicole closed the door far softer than she barged through it and made her way to the bed. She lifts Anna’s chin, seeing tears streaking down her face.

“I don’t want to marry some idiot man. You were right, Nicole, we shouldn’t have to do these things for duty. We should be able to marry whomever we wish.”

“Who would you marry?” Nicole asked her hopefully.

“If we lived in a vastly different world, I would marry you in an instant. We do not, however, and I’ll have to adjust.”

The cerulean blue of her eyes was rimmed with red from her tears. Her beautiful hair of spun sunshine was more disheveled than Nicole had ever seen it.

“You do not need to adjust, Anna. We can run away from here, we can get far away from this place and leave everything behind.”

“There is nowhere in this country where whatever this is between us is acceptable. This is not like the war, Nicole. This is not something you and I can quietly disagree with and nobody will know. This isn’t about our politics and how they differ from everyone else’s around here. This is about our lives, or livelihoods, and that of our families. So as much as I hate it, as much as I wish I could escape with you. I will stay. I will fulfill my duty. That does not mean I will change everything I am. I will still vehemently disagree with slavery. I will still rejoice that it’s been abolished. These are things you and I can think quietly. Don’t you see? Leaving here to get away from all of that is too loud. It’s too dangerous. So I will stay. My guess is, so will you.”

Nicole kissed her then, not realizing it would be the last time she ever did. Anna stopped accepting her into the house. Nicole only ever saw her twice after that day, on Anna’s wedding day, and the day she left South Carolina for good. 

A month or so after Anna stopped seeing her, her mother and brother declared they had found a suitable match. They expected Nicole to be pleased, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. He was tall, from what she recalled. Her mother insisted the man would have to be of a good height to not look ridiculous beside Nicole. Her mother told her he found her hair colour to be ‘unique’. It sounded like a filler word for something less than enthusiastic. Nicole didn’t point this out. Her mother was thrilled. Nicole felt trapped. A Christmas wedding was set, and the house was alight with preparations. She saw him twice a week. He thought her beautiful. She thought him plain. She wrote Anna weekly letters. She never received a reply. The months marched on, the wedding drawing too near for comfort. Nicole went out on her horse every day, eating picnic lunches by herself until the chill of the autumn air in the evenings forced her to return. Her only happiness was that she lived in a warm climate that allowed her even go out at this time of year. She’d heard of places where it got so cold you could see your breath when you exhaled. She’d heard of snow, but she’d never seen it. She wanted to. 

The night before the wedding, her fiancé kissed her. He deemed it proper since they were to be wed the very next day. She did not. His facial hair tickled her face unpleasantly. Completely unsurprisingly, she thought of Anna. The thought didn’t linger, his kiss was nothing like her’s.

He left and the butler announced she had another visitor. Nicole heaved a great sigh, the weariness had settled in and she just wanted to retire for the evening.

When she heard skirts rustling, she followed her gaze from the floor, up the skirts, finally landing on Anna’s face. Nicole was lost in the familiarity of her voice, not registering the words. Anna grabbed her hand and brought her to her quarters so they could talk in private. 

Anna handed her an envelope. 

“What is this?”

“It’s enough to get you out of here. If you cash it with what’s in the trust your father set up for you, you can leave this place. You can leave this place and never look back. You will be financially secure.”

“I can’t take this from you. I can’t leave. It’s my duty.”

Anna gently tilted up her chin, forcing Nicole to look into her eyes.

“You have the most beautiful spirit I have ever seen. I cannot watch it be broken. This life, this marriage it will break you. It will destroy the beautiful and carefree girl I knew. It will quash the adventure in you. Leave this place, Nicole, leave and don’t you ever look back. Find someone that can love you back fully, someone who won’t give you up because of duty. Someone smarter than me.”

Nicole frantically searched the cerulean blue eyes she was so used to getting lost in. 

“Come with me. Please. We can leave together.”

“Nicole, I’m not leaving this place. I’m….with child. My place is here, now more than ever. Your place is out there, in the vast world. “

“Do you love him?” Nicole’s voice cracked when she asked.

“No. I suspect the only person I’ll ever really love is you. Every time I’m with him, I think only of you. Which is why I need you to leave. I need you to go so that fire I see in your eyes doesn’t burn out. You were not born to drown, my love.”

She gently caressed Nicole’s cheek before she stood up to leave. She stopped at the door to give her final farewell.

“Write me, but don’t use your real name. I want to read about all of your adventures.”

With those final words, Nicole never saw her again.

She woke early the next morning, the wedding was until later that afternoon, and she had plenty of time. She did as Anna said and cashed out her trust. She was told she needed her brother’s approval, but she managed to sweet talk the bank teller. She went and gathered what meager provisions she could get away with without seeming obvious and hired a coach to follow her to Anna’s husband’s plantation. She dropped Prince off in the stables, leaving him in the more than capable hands of the stable boy, with word to make sure he is gifted to Anna. She cried when she walked away from him, the only other part of her life here she’d miss. Anna and Prince.

The carriage takes her to Charleston, and she boards the first outgoing train that will put distance between herself and her former life. The train is to New York City; she hoped she’d see snow.

She did. 

She spent the next seven years travelling the country. She took odd jobs, and learned things her tutors never taught her, such as how to cook, mend clothes, start a fire, sleep on the ground, shoot all sorts of guns, hunt for subsistence.

Sometimes she wore a loose cotton blouse and, heaven forbid, trousers. She doesn’t think of her family much, but when she does it’s how her mother would react if she saw her in the trousers.

She thinks of Anna often, and writes her with every new place she goes. She writes her in Latin, Anna said her husband’s Latin is atrocious. Anna named her daughter after Nicole.

_She’s a spitfire, just like you._

Nicole arrived in Purgatory early in the morning of her twenty-third birthday. She thought the town looked like a typical western outpost, nothing she hadn’t seen many times before. She’s certain her time here will be short. 

She hitched her horse up to the post outside of a saloon called Shorty’s, thinking she could get herself a glass of water. Her horse is no Prince, but he’ll do for now. She pushed her way through the swinging saloon doors and into the darkened room. When she saw the girl behind the bar, her breath hitched in her throat, as if it was literally stolen from her. Her brain misfired and for a moment she was rooted to the spot. She was drawn from her reverie by a yelp by the aforementioned girl. She was wearing a soft cotton dress with small flowers, a neckline that was perhaps a smidge too low to be considered proper. 

Nicole never liked the word proper anyhow.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t think of Anna.

She finally remembered to announce her presence.

“Hi there, ma’am. I came in here to get a drink of cold water to refresh my travel wearied body, but it appears you’ve dumped all the water this town has all over yourself.”

A big smile broke across Nicole’s features, which seemed to comfort the girl.

“Oh, you know, I just wanted it all for myself.”

Nicole sidled up to the counter and extended her hand.

“You see, I’ve been standing over there at the entrance and I realized I should probably introduce myself instead of starin’. I’m Nicole, Nicole Haught.”

“Waverly Earp.”

“Waverly, well if that isn’t quite the unique and beautiful name you’ve got there.”

“Well, it’s the only one I’ve got.”

Her handshake was firm, yet soft all at once. Nicole’s smile did not falter, which caused a matching smile from Waverly. Their hands slid out of the handshake, yet remained very close to one another’s on top of the bar. 

“What can I do for you, Miss Haught?”

“Just water, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“No whiskey for you first thing in the morning?”

“I’m not that type of girl.” Nicole responded, accentuating it with a wink.

“I haven’t heard an accent the likes of yours around these parts, where is it you come from might I ask?”

Nicole contemplated giving her standard answer of “oh, you know, all over,” but something about this girl made Nicole want to tell her everything.

“I am originally from South Carolina, but I’ve not been back there in several years.”

“Ah, a Confederate then.” 

Waverly’s eyes harden a little. Nicole has to bite back her first fifteen or so responses before settling on the one she deems the least offensive.

“I’ll beg your pardon, ma’am, but I was only seven years old when that blasted War broke out. Yes, my family was Confederate. My father died at Gettysburg. My brother came back changed for the worse. I’ll thank you to never compare me to that cause or the people who fueled it, though. I am nothing like them.”

Waverly must have seen something in Nicole’s eyes, then. The guilt washed over her face like a tidal wave.

“I apologize, I meant no offense.”

“Yes you did.”

“Yes, I did. I am sorry.”

Waverly poured her a tall glass of water from a pitcher and walked away. Nicole spent the next ten minutes in silence, contemplating their exchange. It wasn’t uncommon, and certainly a reaction she was used to when people heard her accent. She usually just shrugged it off and moved on. For some reason, though, the idea that Waverly thought less of her because of her background didn’t sit well with her.

“Miss Haught?”

Nicole looked up from her water to meet Waverly’s eyes.

“I truly am sorry. The accent sounds beautiful rolling off your tongue.”

A blush touched Waverly’s cheeks and Nicole’s face matched it.

“Apology accepted. Maybe we can discuss it further sometime?”

“Are you staying in town?”

“I think I just might.” Nicole said, a hopeful smile ghosting her lips. 

“So you don’t have a place to stay?”

“It would appear I do not, Miss Earp.”

“Lucky day for you, there are rooms upstairs. Guess who can rent one of those rooms to you?”

“My guess is…you?”

“I’m a jack of all trades.” Waverly grins at Nicole proudly.

“I can see that, well, if you’d be so kind. I’ll gladly take one room, please.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to buy the whole place out?”

“Pretty certain, yes.”

“Darn, just figured I’d try.”

Nicole thinks Waverly’s smile is like the sunrise over the desert.

Waverly grabs a key and leads Nicole up the stairwell to the rooms. She unlocks the door and steps back so Nicole can enter. The room is furnished sparsely with a small writing desk and chair, a small bed and a chest of drawers. Nicole thinks it’s probably the nicest room she’s seen in a long while, but that’s not saying much.

Waverly’s voice chimes in.

“Everything to your liking?”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you kindly. Everything is quite perfect.”

“Dinner is at noon and supper is at five. If I don’t see you come down I’ll make sure to bring something right up here to you, alright?”

“Thank you, that would be most appreciated.”

Waverly makes to head back down the hallway before turning around.

“Oh, and Miss Haught?”

“You can call me Nicole, you know.”

“Alright then.” Waverly smiles. Nicole melts. “Nicole. If you would be interested, I’m done here around 9. I could bring some whiskey up, you know, apologize for being rude. I’d love to hear about South Carolina, if you don’t mind?”

“It’s a date.”

Nicole can’t contain the smile that won’t leave her lips.

“Oh, and one more thing! I really like your hair. It’s the prettiest hair colour I’ve seen. It reminds me of the setting sun. I think the sunset is the most lovely sight of the day.”

With a smile Waverly exits the room, leaving Nicole feeling as if a train at full speed has crashed into her. She figures she must be crazy to be feeling this way. It didn’t work out too well for her last time, after all. She wonders what Anna would think of Waverly. It’s the first time she’s thought of Anna since she met Waverly. It’s the longest time she’s gone without her on her mind for seven years. She feels guilty. 

Nicole thinks back on what Anna had said to her about finding someone new. She had yet to do so. She’d avoided any such dalliances since her last with Anna. The desire was there, the person was not. 

_Find someone that can love you back fully, someone who won’t give you up because of duty. Someone smarter than me._

She couldn’t deny that Waverly’s smile had flipped her on her head that her voice was like water after days in the desert. She felt a nervous energy she hasn’t experienced since the first time she kissed Anna. Something in Waverly’s eyes made Nicole think she was somehow different. She had hope for the first time in years. She tried to put it away in the corners of her mind.

After all, hope is a fickle thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole and Waverly get to know each other over whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos on this fic. (:
> 
> I do not own anything (especially _Leaves of Grass_ and _Serenade_ ) except the mistakes which I apologize profusely for. 
> 
> Small note on _Leaves of Grass_. The first edition published in 1855 is the one I am referring to in this. Whitman spent a good deal of his life adding to, and reworking _Leaves of Grass_ including naming the untitled poems. The poem I am referring to in this is _Song of Myself_.

Nicole spent the rest of that day travelling around the small town to pick up things she needed. She properly stabled her horse, picked up some fresh undergarments from local general store and spent the remainder of the morning and early afternoon familiarizing herself with the town. The town was centred on the main street which was wide and dusty due to the lack of rain. Shops lined both sides of the road. Shorty’s Saloon was the most imposing building on the strip and it featured the town’s small clock tower. The law offices were strategically placed nearby, Nicole could only assume so that the lawmen could arrive quickly when inevitable drunken brawls occurred. 

Nicole couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her face when she considered the bar keep at Shorty’s and the evening that they were going to spend together. She was mildly nervous and the training her mother had instilled in her for receiving guest was rearing its ugly head. She stopped back at the general store to buy a loaf of bread, jam, and some tea simply so she had something to offer in her room even if it wasn’t much. She headed back to Shorty’s to return to her room with her purchases. She smiled at Waverly as she passed through, her smile stretching wider when Waverly returned her smile and nodded in her direction. 

Nicole climbed the stairs and idled away her time until dinner by reading her exceedingly worn copy of _Leaves of Grass_ by Walt Whitman. It was the last birthday present her father had given her. She was too young to read it when it was gifted to her, so she would spend hours staring at it and pretending the words on the page meant something. She would conjure stories in her head about what the words could mean. When she was able to finally comprehend the words, they were far better than the stories she’d imagined. She always found it so beautifully brilliant that Whitman could write so deeply with prose that was able to speak to her in different ways through every year of her life, yet he couldn’t seem to find a suitable title for the poems within the collection, as if the mere act of writing the poems had drained him too much to name them. After all, he named the first six _Leaves of Grass_ and the second six were _Untitled_. Her favourite had always been the first of the _Untitled_ poems. To boldly start a poem by saying “I celebrate myself” always spoke to Nicole immensely. She never fit, her mother knew it, to an extent her brother knew it. Once her father was gone nobody understood her. She wondered if her father would even understand the person she had become or if was just her childish memories that allowed her to believe so. Nicole, however, always knew who she was. Sure, she was going to bow to the weight of duty, but she didn’t. While Anna was certainly a big cause of that, Nicole can’t help but wonder if she would have been able to go through with it once the gun was to her head. She flips to the poem, “I celebrate myself, and what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good as belongs to you.” Just fingering the pages of the book calmed Nicole’s nerves and before she knew it the sun was dipping low in the sky, the sunset splashed along the backdrop of Purgatory. 

Nicole puts the book down and checks her pocket watch, noting it was the time Waverly had said dinner would be served. She changes from her dusty trousers and blouse into a dress. Not a fancy dress like she was accustomed to wearing around her mother. She didn’t feel the need for the underlying support hoop tonight. Which was good, because she certainly didn’t have one nor did she buy one in town today. She did, however, have a nice maroon dress that was simple yet elegant. She used the wash basin, enjoying the way the cool water felt on her face and brushed her hair up into a simple bun before checking herself in the looking glass over the chest of drawers. 

Deeming herself acceptable she made her way down the stairs for dinner. As the stairs turned into full view of the lower level she caught Waverly’s eye and smiled, dipping her head low at the intensity of Waverly’s stare which seemed as if it would never cease. Nicole found she was just fine with this prospect. Waverly did finally look away, however, when she let the bottle she was holding slip from her grasp crashing loudly on the wood floor. Nicole took the opportunity to finish her descent down the stairs and find a place to dine.

The place was absolutely packed, but after a moment of searching she was able to spot a small table in a darkened corner of the room. Help was slow to arrive to her lonely corner of the room and Nicole took her time patiently observing the patrons around her. When Waverly finally arrived at her table, her face sported an embarrassed look.

“My sincerest apologies for the wait.” She smiled at Nicole sheepishly.

“No need to apologize, you did not need to personally come over here, you know. You are quite swamped, after all.” Nicole returned Waverly’s smile, trying to ease her nerves.

“Plus, I have been able to garner a lot of information regarding the folks in this establishment, so the wait certainly was not lacking in entertainment.”

“Care to share?”

“How is it that you have time to be over here talkin’ with me?” 

“Well, because I happen to run this establishment and, furthermore, does it look like anyone in here needs more alcohol?”  
Waverly gestures with her hand to encompass the room and grins at Nicole.

“Fair point. Shall we, then?”

Nicole stands up from her chair and gestures for Waverly to take the newly vacant chair.

“You have been on your feet all day, runnin’ around like a mad person from the looks of things. Kindly take my seat and put my mind at ease?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”

Nicole just smiled at her and stepped back to lean against the wall, clearly showing Waverly she had no intention of taking the seat back whether Waverly took it or not. When Nicole folded her arms across her body, Waverly realized just how stubborn the other woman was going to be, and sat down in the chair, smiling her thanks.

“I imagine that man over there,” Nicole points to the man occupying the piano bench. “He is your usual pianist. However, tonight be began drinking too early. If you will note the shaking of his hands, it is evident he is completely inebriated and unable to play. A decision he will wholly regret tomorrow when he realizes you will not be paying him. He has just turned out his pockets indicating he has no more cash for alcohol.”

“Mmm, too true. It’s a common occurrence.” Waverly responds, lifting her eyebrows clearly impressed at Nicole’s observation.

“What else?”

“The young man sitting at the centre of the bar fancies you. Whenever you are approaching him he knocks back his drink so you can be the one he asks to refill it rather than your burly male assistant. Whenever he walks by, the young man pulls his drink back towards himself and all but glares at him. When you draw close to him, however, he smiles like you are a sunflower in field of weeds.”

“Oooh, you are good. That is Champ, he’s fancied me for a while. It’s unfortunate he doesn’t have a lick of common sense in his head or he would be able to see that it is never going to happen. Alright, cowgirl, how about that guy. What have you learned about him?”

Waverly’s hand is indicating an older gentleman sitting at a large table playing poker with a few other men. Nicole looks him over thoroughly before answering.

“His clothes are well-worn but still in good shape. This indicates to me that he is not a person of meager standing but also not a person of great standing. His whiskey is only half gone and nobody has been over to top him off since I came in. This says to me he is trying to let his companions out drink him so that he can fool them into winning the pot at the end of the night. His conservative play shows the same tactic. For example, he just called instead of raising. Yet the subtle tug at the corner of his lips says to me he has a decent hand. Shall we find out, Miss Earp?”

“Oh, I think I can stay here a couple more minutes to find out the end of this thrilling saga. When I go back to the bar is there anything I can send over to you?”

“A helping of whatever you are serving and a glass of water would do wonders, thank you.”

“Water again?” Waverly raises her eyebrows, jokingly mocking Nicole. “What kind of cowgirl are you?”

“It is my understanding that you are bringing whiskey up later this evening, it would not do for me to be too inebriated to enjoy the company now, would it?”

“I don’t think that would bother anyone else here.”

“I am unlike everyone else here.”

Waverly shifts her eyes up to meet Nicole’s, and nervously plays with the hem of her dress.

“No, I don’t suppose you are,” she utters softly. Almost too quietly for Nicole’s ear to pick up in the rambunctiously loud saloon, but she hears it, and lifts the corner of her mouth into a dimpled half grin in response. 

“Pair of Aces! Thank you, gentlemen!” The man they’d been watching proclaims as he drags the chips in towards himself.

“Not an amazing hand, but he could have swept that table I guarantee it. Yet such a meager bet.” 

“Remind me to never play poker with you.”

“I would not recommend it, ma’am.”

Waverly sighs as she stands up from the chair.

“Guess I ought to get back to keeping the bar. I will make sure not to fill up anymore of Champ’s drinks, he will only receive drinks from John for the rest of this evening. You will inform me as to how annoyed he gets when I see you later?”

“It would be my pleasure, Miss Earp.”

With these last words, Waverly saunters off back to the bar and Nicole cannot help but stare as she walks away, keenly feeling the absence of her presence. Ten or fifteen minutes later, and Nicole has bowl of stew and a chunk of bread arriving at the table along with her water. She eats, silently watching the patrons of the bar. Yet her eyes keep wandering back to the barkeep. When she needs amusement, she turns her eyes to Champ who is, naturally, getting incredibly peeved at the denial of Waverly’s attention. Nicole is unable to suppress the chuckle that bubbles up her throat. An hour or so later and it seems Champ has had enough, he smashes his whiskey glass down on the floor and stumbles out of the saloon. Waverly meets Nicole’s eyes and winks at her, a grin plastering her face. 

The rest of the night goes slowly. Nicole is anxiously waiting for the saloon to close so she can talk with Waverly privately. The man she was watching did, without a doubt, take the poker pot and Nicole smiles when Waverly points at him and gives her a thumbs up. As the saloon begins to empty Nicole puffs out a sigh of relief. She stands up, intending to make her way towards her room. When she’s by the bar Waverly stops her. The saloon is empty now, aside from Waverly, who has just sent the other barkeep home.

“Do you play piano, Nicole?”

“I can, indeed.”

“Would it be too forward to ask for you to play something for me while I finish cleaning up around here?”

“Certainly not, although I must warn you I have not had the pleasure of playing piano in years so I might be a bit rusty.”

“I am sure you will play beautifully.” Waverly flashes Nicole a reassuring smile and grabs her hand lightly squeezing it as Nicole makes her way by and towards the piano. Nicole sits down at the bench, nerves suddenly overwhelming her.

“Is there anything in particular you would like to hear this evening?”

“Just play your favourite, I will enjoy anything.”

Nicole turns her face away from Waverly and gingerly fingers the keys of the piano, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. When she places her hand in starting position, playing the first few notes, she finds her nerves subside and the flow of the music comes back to her naturally. Memories of piano lessons on the beautiful grand piano at the plantation wash over her. She’d always enjoyed those lessons, her tutor was quite fond of her and said she had an excellent ear for music. Nicole had always used the piano as a way to relieve stress, especially when she couldn’t find time to escape for a ride on Prince. She finds music has the same calming effect on her now, and she’s almost sad when the song ends. She turns around, expecting to see Waverly still at the bar, but she’s right behind her, looking down at her with a fondness in her eyes as if they’d known each other for years.

“That was beautiful, Nicole, truly. May I ask what you played?”

“It is _Ständchen_ , the fourth piece from Franz Schubert’s _Schwanengesang_. While the entire collection is lovely, this one was always my favourite.”

“Does it have a melody?”

“Oh, of course, yes there are words. I could sing them, if you would like?”

“I would love nothing more.”

“In German or translated English?”

Nicole was suddenly like a bundle of exposed nerves, as Waverly had come to sit beside her on the piano bench. The proximity was distracting and Nicole was trying to keep her mind focused on the music.

“Both?”

“Both it is.”

Nicole closes her eyes for a moment, placing her hands back on the piano and softly singing the original German words along with the piano accompaniment. When the song has ended, she places her hands back to the original starting position to play again, this time singing the song in English. When she has finished she can feel Waverly’s eyes boring into her.

“Beautiful,” Waverly breathes out. Nicole assumes she’s talking about the song.

“Yes, Schubert’s music is fabulous.”

“Yes, Schubert….definitely” Waverly pauses for a moment, swallowing hard and continues, trying to seem less rattled than she feels. 

“When you hear only the piano, you think the song is incredibly sad. Yet the lyrics are about love and longing.”

Nicole dips her head, saying her next words barely above a whisper. As if saying them louder will break her.

“Sometimes longing is devastatingly sad.”

Uncertain how to respond, Waverly gingerly takes Nicole’s hand and leads her up the stairs to her lodgings, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses along the way. The walk drags Nicole out of her thoughts and into the present, with the stunning girl who has chosen to spend the evening with her. Once they’ve both comfortably sat down in the room, the only surface on which to do so being the bed, Nicole asks Waverly about her life.

“I’ve always lived here, despite wanting to explore the world. Something will probably always keep me in this place. My family is the law in this town, after all. I do not own Shorty’s of course, as I am not allowed to own property. Yet it is as good as mine, my cousin Wyatt bought it and quietly gave it over to me. It’s better than what a lot of women can hope for.”

“You seem to be doing brilliantly for yourself.”

“I like to think so, thank you. What about you? A woman travelling the country on her own? I think you’re the real Renaissance woman here.”

Nicole smiles sadly and bows her head, staring into her whiskey.

“Does it make me a renaissance woman if I am travelling the country simply because I am running away from a life I did not have any interesting in living?”

“You could have stopped at any of the plush cities along the way and lived a quiet life, sheltered, and safe life, yet you are choosing to travel and visit little towns like these. So I do believe that my comment still stands. If you do not feel as if your privacy is being too invaded by my forward questioning, would you like to tell me what it is you’re running away from?”

Nicole told her practically everything, only leaving Anna out. Her story without Anna in it made her heart ache more than she could have imagined and she felt drained from its telling. Yet Waverly listened intently, eyes lighting up at Nicole’s descriptions of the far off places she’s been and the odd characters she’s met. 

“Miss Earp, we’ve now been discussing only me for around an hour or so. Dare I inquire about your life?”

“I find I really enjoy chewing the fat with you.” A smile graces her lips and Nicole resists the urge to place her hand on Waverly’s cheek, despite desperately wanting to feel how the smile  
alters the composition of Waverly’s face underneath her hand.

“Your stories are much better than mine, I fear. I was born and raised here. I didn’t have tutors, but I did walk a couple of miles to a one room school house. Our teacher wasn’t from here, so my family housed her. We had a house big enough to do so. It was always good for me, though, because we would be assigned a schedule regarding who brought the wood in to heat the classroom on a particular day. Since I lived with the teacher, she would walk with me to school and take some of the wood load off of me on my assigned days. I have two sisters, my sister Wynonna is living much like you, travelling around from place to place. She sends letters sometimes, otherwise I’ve not seen her in years. My sister Willa was killed by a gang of outlaws when I was only six. My family has been hunting that gang down ever since. My mother died of typhoid when I was four so I never knew her at all. My father’s the town drunk—but I don’t serve him at Shorty’s. I pretty much grew up living with Wyatt’s parent’s, my Aunt Gus and Uncle Curtis. Life after I was six was simple with them, and that’s okay by me.”

“May I request to know why your place is named ‘Shorty’s’?” Nicole asks, with a spark in her eye which causes Waverly to laugh and gently swat at her shoulder.

“You think it’s called Shorty’s because I am of small stature!”

Nicole winks at her, the smile on her face widening, the spark in her eye igniting to full blown amusement. 

“It had not even occurred to me.”

“Yeah, sure. I definitely believe you. No, it’s not named ‘Shorty’s’ because I am short. It is named Shorty’s because a man called Shorty was a mentor of Wyatt’s and mine and he died not too long ago—the saloon was named to honour him.”

Nicole’s face sobers up immediately.

“My apologies, I did not mean to make light of a situation such as this. I meant no offense.”

Waverly places her hand on Nicole’s arm and smiles at her.

“No offense was taken, be at ease.”

Nicole felt as if that hand was searing her arm, the sparks it sent shot straight down her body causing a delicious, yet unwanted, thrumming between her thighs such as she hadn’t felt since Anna. She slams her eyes shut, darting her tongue out over her bottom lip to suck it into her mouth in order to compose herself. How is it that Waverly is able to have such a strong pull over her? She certainly could not deny the desire she felt when she looked into Waverly’s eyes, and now with Waverly’s hand upon her skin. Waverly’s eyes seemed to have darkened when Nicole’s tongue crossed her lips, but Nicole was confident she was just hopefully imagining that. Her eyes darted around the room, everywhere but where Waverly was sitting beside her, finally landing on Leaves of Grass poking out of her bag. Her voice was foreign, deeper and rougher than her usual cadence, almost foreign to her ears when she finally managed to hold on to a thought to pull her out before she drowned in Waverly.

“Do you like reading?”

“Oh yes, I love reading. If I thought it possible I would read everything the world had to offer, but there is certainly not enough time for that.”

Nicole smiles at Waverly’s response, as it is nearly exactly the response she would give if asked the same question.

“What is your most loved book?”

“I have always enjoyed the classics. _The Iliad_ , _The Oddessy_ , _The Aenid_ , Plato, Socrates, plays by Sophocles. Yet I’ve just recently finished _Walden_ by Henry David Thoreau and I thought it was utterly brilliant. Interesting that I meet you so shortly after reading it as he uses seclusion on Walden Pond to critique society. You’re a society girl and I live in the middle of nowhere. Yet you’ve left that society and experienced a life more similar to that which he experienced on Walden Pond. Do you find that being in nature and seeing the world has helped you transcend the desperate existence you were chained to?”

Nicole contemplated the question for a moment.

“It is interesting, most of my life I felt free. Until I hit fifteen and the pressures of society and family started closing in on me. Even then, to escape I would ride my horse into a field of wild flowers and spend all the hours I could. I have read _Walden_ , of course, but I have never made the connection like you just did. So yes, I absolutely agree with the ideas Thoreau puts forth. I would be living in quite the desperate situation had I not escaped, and I do find my solitude in nature. It is astounding the things you can learn about human nature and people simply by being away from these things.”

“It is always nice to get away from people. Sometimes I enjoy riding away from here and pretending I’ll not ever come back. Usually I will camp for a night and realize my place is here and return, but it’s always nice to feel that sense of freedom.”

“Speaking of people and of freedom, have I kept you too long?”

“Or not long enough.”

Waverly quickly clears her throat, looking down from Nicole’s intense gaze.

“I mean, we’ve yet to finish our drinks after all. It’d be a crying shame to waste such wonderful whiskey.”

They continued to talk about this, that, and the other for another hour or so. Exhaustion begins to settle over Waverly and she droops her head onto Nicole’s shoulder. As much as Nicole doesn’t want to relinquish the contact, she knows she needs to end the evening before Waverly is asleep on her bed.

“May I walk you home?”

“My home is just down the hall from you, actually.”

“How convenient. May I see you safely to your door then, at the very least?”

“You may.”

Waverly smiles as Nicole extends her hand out, offering it to Waverly to help her stand up from the bed. They walk arm-in-arm down the hall to Waverly’s room. She struggles to unlock the door and chuckles nervously at Nicole who places a hand over her’s to steady it enough to properly place the key into the lock. The door unlocks and they both nearly tumble into the room. Nicole recovers quickly and catches Waverly before she stumbles and falls to the floor. Waverly is pressed up against her and Nicole can’t help thinking about how wonderful her body feels there. Waverly brushes her hand along the exposed skin of Nicole’s neck, sending shivers down her body. 

“I meant to tell you earlier, you look beautiful in this dress. Not that you didn’t look beautiful in the trousers, you did, but you look exquisite in this dress…and I am babbling so I am going to stop that now and tell you goodnight. I had a great time.”

Nicole puffs the air she’d been holding in back out slowly and tries to seem nonchalant when she responds, not wanting Waverly to know how much calling her beautiful had affected Nicole.

“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Earp. Thank you most graciously for spending an evening with me.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nicole.”

“Until tomorrow, Miss Earp.”

With a smile Waverly shuts the door to her room and Nicole stands there for a moment before turning to make her way down to her own lodgings. She’s halfway down the hallway when the door to Waverly’s room opens again.

“Oh, and Nicole?”

She makes her way back to the door.

“If you’re planning on staying in town for a while. The incredibly bright men at the sheriff’s office are holding a competition tomorrow to find a new deputy. So if you can shoot well and have any interest it’s happening at noon. They could use someone with some actual brains on staff.”

“Thank you for the tip, I will be sure to look into it, Miss Earp. Goodnight, again.”

Nicole dips her head low, raising it to smile at Waverly before walking away.

Did she want to stay in this town? Was it even a smart thing for her to do? Her attraction to Waverly may be strong enough to get her into some serious trouble if it does not play out well. Yet she couldn’t fathom not being able to see the other girl’s smile—to take a chance on a friendship, at least. It was clear they had some sort of bond and Nicole thought she could see that feeling replicated in Waverly’s eyes.

So yes, she would stay. She would go to this competition tomorrow, and if she was given a job she would give Purgatory a chance. She would give the blossoming friendship a shot. If it did not work out, she still had the wide world ahead of her and all she would leave behind is some wasted time. 

Or so she hoped. 

Again, she reminded herself, hope is a fickle thing.


End file.
